


The Lasso of Truth or The Three Seductions of Hestia

by espark



Category: Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Invented Greek Myth, Prophecy, Self-Fulfilling Prophecy, The Lasso of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 13:51:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13591404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espark/pseuds/espark
Summary: Queen Hippolyta agrees to tell young Diana a story, not about a sword or shield, but about the Lasso of Hestia.The story begins, "The day Hestia was born, the oracle made a prediction about the baby girl. Like most of the oracle’s pronouncements, it was both a blessing and a curse...





	The Lasso of Truth or The Three Seductions of Hestia

Diana was _not_ tired. She did _not_ want to go to bed. She _wanted_ to play gorgon slayer. 

Her mother, Queen Hippolyta, said, “Settle down child, and I will tell you a story.” 

“Not the one how you sculpted me from clay again! I want to hear a story about warriors and battles, about the god-killer.” Diana bounced up and down in her excitement.

“I will not tell you a story of weapons or fighting. You have no need of such knowledge. Here, you are safe.” Her mother caressed Diana’s dark hair, trying to calm her down.

“What about a shield? A story of a famous shield?” Diana asked.

Hippolyta sighed, “I will tell you the story of Hestia and how she came by her Lasso.”

…………………………

The day Hestia was born, the oracle made a prediction about the baby girl. Like most of the oracle’s pronouncements, it was both a blessing and a curse. The oracle said she would take one of the gods as her lover and experience a passionate and beautiful love. However, the union would produce no child, no Jason or Achilles, and she would be spoiled for any future husband. 

After hearing the oracle’s pronouncement, the parents decided to name their newest daughter Hestia after the goddess of the hearth and family, for they knew she would never marry and her place was with them, at home. Hestia always thought her name was rather ironic, considering that Hestia the goddess was also a virgin.

Her family decided to forgo a traditional young lady’s education with Hestia as it would be wasted on a woman who would never be a wife or mother. At least there would one less dowry to provide. Not that her family was poor. They owned a villa with considerable land and were respected for breeding fine horses. So Hestia was allowed to help the horsemaster instead of learning to play the harp or weave. It turned out she had a natural talent with the animals. She became more at home riding in the yard and walking through the olive groves than reclining inside on silk cushions or listening to epic poetry recitals. As word of her famous fate spread, it also brought in considerable business. People were curious to see the girl who would one day be the lover of a god.

The first time Hestia was seduced by a god, she was naive and eager. She was always on the lookout for a mysterious stranger who would sweep her off her feet. When a handsome traveler with curly brown hair and vibrant gray eyes approached her in the olive grove and said his name was Pothos, she didn’t think twice. Unfortunately, his touch, however passionate, did not fill her with a beautiful love. It was actually rather disappointing. When he bid Hestia goodbye, she realized her mistake. They were both caught off guard by her anger. She hurled accusations of being an imposter at him, as wells as a few stones, one of which left him bleeding from his ear.

The second time she was seduced by a god, she was skeptical and took her time. He called himself Zephyros and had dark skin and strong hands. He had been a great chariot racer, but after an accident at the hippodrome, he had decided to stop racing. Now he wanted to start training chariot horses and their racers. He could talk for hours about equestrian philosophies. 

He said he that loved her. He said she was the one he would spend the rest of his life with. He said he did not believe the oracle’s prophecy about her; it was superstitious nonsense. She wanted to believe him. Unfortunately, when he asked her family’s blessing for their marriage he discovered that Hestia had no dowry (and was therefore not entitled to any of the family’s horses). When he said he was leaving to seek his fortune elsewhere, she wanted to throw something at him - an oil lamp or some blame. Instead, she laid the blame on herself. (Well, maybe a little on the oracle too).

After that, she treated potential suitors with cynicism, sarcasm, and - ultimately - refusal. Years later, when her elder brother took charge of the family’s accounts, she took charge of the land and the horses. She told herself that she could ride, train, and raise the finest horses in the land, and that would be enough. The oracle and her prophecies could get mucked out with the rest of the horse manure.

Shortly after Eos, the rosy fingered dawn, reached across the hills, a strikingly beautiful woman entered the yard and announced, “May I speak to the horsemaster?” 

No one else was in the yard but Hestia. 

Hestia was both drawn to the woman’s radiantly good looks and put off by her arrogant mix of presumption and condescension. Even though the woman dressed simply and wore no jewelry or other adornments, she shone with beauty. Hestia had a strange urge to reach out and touch her hem or perhaps a lock of her hair, but then she brushed aside the idiotic idea.

“If you are looking to buy a horse, go to the villa and ask for the head of the household. He will assist you.” Hestia replied.

The elegant woman gave a dismissive shake of her head, “No, I need the horsemaster. Please bring him to me.” 

Hestia wanted to say, _You’re looking at him_ , but she knew better than to offend a potential customer. She kept her tone respectful and said, “I am Hestia, the horsemaster of this estate.”

The woman’s expression flickered with doubt, but then settled back into a proud, calculated smoothness. Hestia thought she must be from the the capitol, possibly even royalty. However, the woman’s severe expression did nothing to dim her beauty. She was gorgeous, with long limbs, shapely breasts, enchanting green eyes and wavy golden hair that practically glowed. It was impossible to look away.

The noble woman said, “My son has made a wager he cannot win and is in great peril. I went to the oracle to ask for wisdom and guidance. She pronounced that the horsemaster at this estate would be my salvation. Unless I find a way to defeat the best charioteer in the world, my son will be killed. But if you help me, and my son lives, I will give you whatever you ask.” 

“Curse that oracle to the deepest, darkest hole in Hades,” Hestia muttered. 

“Excuse me?” the noble woman asked.

“I said, ‘Of course I will help. No payment is required between honorable ladies.” The noble woman’s shoulders dropped ever so slightly and her face softened with hope. Hestia continued, “but you must understand, I am not a master charioteer, merely skilled with horses.”

“It is of no matter, the oracle has spoken and here we are.”

Something else struck Hestia as odd. She was surprised to hear the woman say she had a son. The woman seemed so young. Although, on second glance it was impossible to tell the lady’s age.

Hestia skepticism flared, “And whom do I have the honor of helping?”

“You may call me Shell.” It was clear this was an alias, or perhaps a pet name, for so noble a woman could ever be named so simply. It confirmed Hestia’s suspicions, but she had already given her word to help this lady, and Hestia would not recant.

“Alright, Shell, tell me what you know of the chariot, the horses, and the course.”

The woman described blazing horses of blinding power and breathtaking speed, a huge gilded chariot, and a race course so long, it would take from dawn to dusk to finish. 

Hestia saw this for what it was, more obfuscation, and it made her impatient. “If this is all you can tell me, I cannot think of anything that can aid you.”

“Please, I beg you, woman to woman, help me.” Hestia could feel her anger melting away as she stared into Shell’s lovely, pleading eyes.

Then, Shell reached out and took Hestia’s hands in her own. The warm pressure of the woman’s perfect fingers, gently clasping her own, sent a jolt through Hestia’s entire body. It was as if the smoothest, softest fire raced through her veins. It was all she could do to nod and say, “There is one thing you could do.”

Shell let her hands drop and asked, “What?” Her expression was hopeful again.

Hestia let out a deep breath and took a moment to gather her scattered wits. She wanted to touch the place on the back of her hand where Shell’s fingers had just been, but she held still. She had remembered something her suitor, the charioteer, had told her about how his rivals would try to cheat.

“Place an obstacle in the chariot’s path, something that blocks his way and forces him to swerve to avoid it,” Hestia said.

Shell’s face lit up and it was the most beautiful smile Hestia had ever seen. “Yes! That is what I shall do.” Shell cried out. The noble woman thanked her and walked away. 

The next day there was a partial eclipse of the sun.

For days, Hestia could not get the noble woman out of her thoughts. At night she remembered the woman’s touch and how it had made her feel alive. She imagined searching the woman out and asking her for that favor she had offered, perhaps a token to remember her by? But Hestia knew it would be best to forget the whole encounter had ever happened. Clearly the lady wanted to remain anonymous. She knew she would never see such a beautiful form and face again.

Yet the next week, the noble woman returned looking stern again. 

Hestia asked, “What happened? Does your son live?” Her heart was leaping with joy at seeing the woman again, but worried that their plan had failed.

Shell’s expression softened, and Hestia felt like she could lose herself in those deep green eyes and heartfelt smile.

“Your advice worked beautifully and I am so grateful. Everyone saw it! The mighty charioteer had to swerve to avoid the obstacle, diminishing his advantage. However, I made a bargain to arrange the sabotage and I fear the promised price will be too dear. Will you be my salvation again?”

Hestia did not trust herself to speak and only nodded.

Shell explained that she now owed a debt to the charioteer’s rival, a famous hunter, the one who’d provided the obstacle. The price to which Shell had agreed was to the head of a fabled beast - an immortal, unkillable stag. If she did not bring the champion hunter this prize by the next full moon, she would become the hunter’s slave. 

Hestia had a flash of disbelief at this woman’s outlandish quests, but then she remembered that the oracle was behind this madness. Only last month the oracle had sent a princling off to kill his own mother. That seer had no scruples! Lately, it seemed like more and more of her prophecies involved death or murder. Even her predictions were getting predictable. Couldn’t the oracle be more creative? Then, an idea hit Hestia.

“Wait. You only need to bring the hunter the stag’s head? Those were the exact terms of the bargain?” Hestia asked.

“Yes,” Shell said, “And, am I right in guessing you have another good idea?” She said it in a playful way that made Hestia let out a small laugh. Hestia realized that when they first met, the woman’s cold manner had been due to anxiety. Now, Shell was warming up and letting some of that austerity fade.

Shell’s playful tone was infectious and Hestia answered with a smile, “If you capture the stag alive and bring the beast to the hunter whole, head and body, that would fulfil your bargain, would it not? What do you think?”.

Shell clapped her hands with delight, “Of course! And we cannot let the oracle down.” 

Over the next few weeks, the noble woman came every day to practice roping with a lasso. As Shell’s skills grew, so did their closeness. They started slowly, roping bales of straw, then fence posts, then the highest blossoms in the citrus orchard. Despite her obvious refinement, Shell was a quick learner. Hestia made Shell practice with every animal on the grounds, from a bewildered hen to the most spirited stallion. After their third day of practice, Hestia realized that Shell still strictly guarded her anonymity and always came when no one else was around. Part of Hestia mistrusted this need for secrecy, but when Shell asked Hestia’s opinion of important political matters, like the rampant duels in Sparta or the regional high priest’s call for more animal sacrifices, Hestia felt they had a real connection. And when Hestia complimented Shell on her grace or her smile, Shell beamed with pleasure. 

Hestia savored the times their hands met over a loop of rope or their bodies came close while she adjusted her stance. Sometimes their eyes would meet and Hestia felt like the whole world was holding its breath, just for the two of them.

Their conversations grew more intimate. On one particularly clear morning in the citrus orchard, Shell confided about her tumultuous marriage and that her powerful husband was constantly chasing after young women. Hestia listened and then shared her shameful experience with her charioteer. Another day, Hestia told of how oppressive it felt when people came far and wide to ogle at her, the poor girl who had yet to meet her doom. Yet she could not let it show, because Hestia knew that her notoriety brought fame and fortune to her family. Shell understood. She said her famous looks drew all kinds of admirers. Yet while people praised her beauty, they looked no further. Shell appreciated her worshiper’s devotion, but she yearned for others to see that she was more than just a pretty face and shapely body. It seemed to Hestia that they could talk and laugh for hours, and it felt like no time at all.

Finally, with only a few days until the full moon, Hestia and Shell went into the woods to practice roping wild deer. The two dismounted and stepped carefully through the trees. Hestia became so intent on watching Shell, how she moved like a dancer, all grace and loveliness, that she very nearly forgot about their purpose in the woods. When Shell suddenly roped a tall buck, and whooped with joy, Hestia laughed and hugged her in celebration. When Hestia pulled back and looked into Shell’s soft green eyes, she felt their joyous embrace turn into simmering desire. Hestia could barely draw breath as Shell held her intense gaze. Then, Hestia leaned forward and kissed her. Not on the cheek or the brow as one might kiss a sister or a dear friend, but flush on the mouth. Shell kissed her back like she had been waiting forever for Hestia and could not get enough. They had gone into the woods as friends and emerged as lovers. Still, somehow, no one ever saw the two together.

The days before Shell’s trial were filled with passion, but also quiet reflection. They both knew there was a chance Shell would fail to apprend the fabled stag, or that some other trick of Fate might befall her. 

The day before the full moon, they tearfully embraced, dreading to part ways.

Shell confessed, “If I never see you again, know that I love you. I will always carry you in my heart of hearts.”

A week went by with no word from Shell. Hestia was distraught and distracted. She could not stop thinking of Shell, her skilled hands, her lovely eyes, and her delicious laughter. She worried that the noble woman had not succeeded or worse, she had, but had decided to move on, like Hestia’s other lovers.

Then, when a strange man arrived in stained traveling clothes, looking hunched and furtive, and asking to speak to the horsemaster, a shiver went through Hestia body.

“I am the horsemaster,” she said. She hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

The ominous man frowned and said, “But you are a woman.”

Hestia was annoyed at his response, but it confirmed he was from far away since Hestia’s reputation was well-known throughout the region. Her irritation at his ignorance helped revive her pride. 

She said nothing, waiting for him to continue. He seemed to remember himself and shrank down a bit more.

“I come with a boon from my lady. She could not come in person, but wanted you to have this, for services rendered,” he said, drawing out a large oilskin bag from under his cloak.

Hestia took the parcel and opened it. Inside she found a gleaming coil of rope, smooth and slender, and apparently made of gold. Hestia ran her fingers along the strands. She estimated its length was long enough to stretch clear across the corral. The material shone as bright as the finest golden necklace, but felt as firm and flexible as the best rope.

The man’s words echoed in Hestia’s ears, “ _... for services rendered._ ”

Anger flooded her and left a wake of confusion. She wanted no payment! Had she meant so little to Shell? What was really going on? Was this still some game Fate was playing with her, with them both?

She pushed the golden rope away, refusing the prize. “Take it back. I do not want payment, only the truth. Tell your lady that.”

The man laughed at her and said, “She will not tell you a thing, for even if she dared, you would not believe her.” Hestia heard the condescension in his voice, saw the same regal bearing that Shell carried, and knew he was no servant.

“Who are you?” she asked.

The man seemed to consider for a moment, then he transformed before her eyes. He grew a foot in height while his chest and arms expanded with muscles. His hair and beard became lustrous, but as with Shell, Hestia could not tell the man’s age. 

“I am her husband, her lord and master, and I forbid her from coming here ever again!” His words boomed across the yard, flooded into the olive groves and shook the very earth below her. Hestia had never felt more afraid in her life, but she stood her ground.

As the man turned and walked away, Hestia had the urge to hurl her grief at him, but she did not know how. Instead, Hestia saddled her best horse and galloped away into the woods, her heart falling to pieces.

Yet the next day, as Eos broke crisp and strong over the hills, Hestia woke to find Shell standing before her, as beautiful as ever, but changed somehow. She wore a gown of delicate ivory linen, trimmed in the deepest blue. Pearls were woven into her thick golden hair and a thin laurel of silver apple blossoms circled her brow. 

Hestia could not move. She could not breath. She thought she must be dreaming. 

“Hestia,” Shell began and her voice was the same one that had graced the corral, what seemed like a lifetime ago, “My husband played a cruel trick on us both. He disguised himself and took the place of my servant. He twisted my message and corrupted my intentions. I meant the golden rope as a gift, something to remember me by and our time together, for I will always treasure those hours spent holding your lasso in my hands.”

Hestia was still stunned. Her mind seemed to be on the verge of making a connection, but it was all too overwhelming. 

The magnificent woman drew out the golden loop of rope from out of nowhere and offered it to Hestia. “You asked for the truth, and you shall have it, for this is no ordinary rope. I wove it myself, from my own garment, and bestowed it with great power. Anyone caught in its lengths shall be compelled to tell the truth, to see clearly, and to defy ignorance.” 

She drew out a golden length and wrapped it around her wrist, “I am Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, and pleasure. Fate has brought us together, and I will forever be glad of the love we have shared.” 

Shell, Aphrodite, unwrapped the golden rope from her wrist and passed the coils to Hestia.

Hestia finally found her voice, “Will we be able to see each other, to be together, again? Your husband....” she trailed off at the thought of the terrible man and his earthshaking wrath.

“There is a way,” Aphrodite smiled her sweet, playful smile and Hestia couldn’t help but feel her body relax and her spirit rise. The goddess continued, “I have given my blessing and my protection to a group of women, the Amazons, led by Queen Hippolyta. They have taken up residence on an island, far from the shores of Man. They are powerful warriors, especially skilled with the bow,” - here, she paused for emphasis - “but, they could use a talented horsemaster.” 

When Aphrodite winked at her, Hestia couldn’t resist and pulled her lover close for a long kiss.

………………………

Diana yawned and Hippolyta pulled the blankets up around her daughter’s shoulders.

“Good night, my love,” the Queen said to her daughter. “Sleep well.”

“Mother,” the girl asked, “do you think Hestia’s golden lasso could be used during battle, perhaps to grab a fleeing enemy or knock someone down?”

Hippolyta nearly rolled her eyes, but caught herself in time. Would her daughter never stop thinking of fighting?

The queen said, “I do not know, my love. You will just have to ask the horsemaster herself. But that is for another day and now it is time to sleep.”


End file.
